


[Working Title] Around the World

by Night-Mare (Aoife)



Category: Katekyou Hitman Reborn!
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe, Friends to Lovers, Improbable Escape Routes, M/M, Myths & Legends, Post-Varia Arc, Round the World Cruise
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-07
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2019-03-15 04:26:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13605504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aoife/pseuds/Night-Mare
Summary: He's had enough, but perhaps trusting Mukuro wasn't thebestidea.





	1. 071700J MAR 20XX - Namimori, Japan - Tsuna

“I have a bargain for you Mukuro.” He’s still not entirely sure that he should do this, but he doesn’t _want_ to be a member of the underworld; doesn’t want to be his father’s puppet.

“Kufufufu. And with what do you bargain, little Vongola? What do you have to offer me, that I can’t just take from you?” He hesitates for a moment, trying to gauge what the Mist _really_ wanted from him.

“A secret and a permission that I’ve previously denied you.” He holds out the Sky Ring to Mukuro. “Mist is creation, Mukuro. They won’t let me escape them, and I don’t want to join the Mafia.” 

“Kufufu.” His Mist strokes a finger over the Ring, but doesn’t take it from him. “I can’t take that; your ancestor paid a _lot_ of money for the protections on it. But, providing you’re willing to stay away from Italy while I play, I can fake it. And pretending to be you? That’s easy, little Vongola, if that’s truly what you’re asking me to do.”

“Can you cover for Takeshi and Hayato, too?” He’s not going to leave the two of them behind. Ryohei has his sister; his Mama will look after Lambo, and Kyoya will probably just go and bite Dino-nii to death, but if he doesn’t take his Rain and his Storm with him,then at best they’ll destroy themselves looking for him.

“Of _course_. But where will you go, little Vongola?” Mukuro had a genuinely curious expression on his face, and he hesitates; he hadn’t expected to get agreement from his notional Mist so easily. 

He hadn’t planned that far ahead; he hadn’t thought Mukuro would agree. “I don’t think I should tell you.”

“Kufufufu. You don’t know do you. Let me give you a present or two then, as you’ve handed me such a lovely one. One, I’ll leave the Cavallone alone unless they come for me, and two -” Mukuro pressed a finger covered in dark blue flames to his forehead, “- everything you need to hide. I can’t tear their world to the ground if they can find you, and drag you back again, can I, little Vongola?” The teen that his father insists on calling his Mist catches him as he collapses, the headache from whatever it was that those Mist covered fingers were doing to his brain absolutely _excruciating_ and he slips into unconsciousness to the sound of his Mist’s kufufufu-ing laugh. “I’m going to have so much fun, Tsunayoshi.” 


	2. 082100J MAR 20XX - Pacific Ocean (Sailing between Nagasaki and Hong Kong) - Tsuna

He wakes on a king-size bed in an ornate room. He can feel a subtle motion, one that he recognises from when Reborn had smuggled him onto the cruise boat to Mafia Island; Takeshi and Hayato were sprawled on either side of him, asleep, and he groans at the residual headache from whatever it was the Mukuro had done to him. There’s a note pinned to his chest, and the handwriting on it looks vaguely familiar, though he’s not entirely sure from _where_. 

He fumbles undoing the pin, scratching his thumb on the sharp tip, and there’s a shimmer of Mist Flames, revealing a whole pile of _very_ fancy luggage to his eyes. He curses softly and sucks on his thumb, and reads the note, the Italian coming far easily than it had been before and he has a fairly good idea of what Mukuro had used his Flames to do now, and he struggles upright - not that Takeshi and Hayato were particularly willing to let him do so and looks around the suite; he was right about why the room was rolling slightly. He could see the open sea beyond the balcony. 

> ‘I rather liked your idea, Tsunayoshi. So have fun; you’re going around the world as many times as you want. I bought the suite for you out right. Your passports are under your pillows, there’s a rather generous ship account linked to one of dear Daniela’s forgotten Swiss Bank Accounts, and if you find somewhere you want to settle down, then all you need to do is tear up this note, and you’ll find everything you need to make yourself at home. And there’s _plenty_ of lube and other supplies in the suite, too. You’ll be pleased to know that both of your boys would rather like to serve you, though they’re both rather nervous about whether you’d even be interested in them.’

He flops back onto the bed, and debates what he should do; Hayato and Takeshi makes his decision for him, by wriggling closer to him, and wrapping their arms around him tightly, and he’s just relieved that they’re all at least wearing boxers and a t-shirt. The two of them are _delightfully_ warm, and he can feel both of them curled up within his Sky, too, and he settles back to sleep again. Perhaps when he wakes back up again, his headache will be gone; he can hope, can’t he?


	3. 090800J MAR 20XX - Pacific Ocean (Sailing between Nagasaki and Hong Kong) - Hayato

There’s a knock on his front door. Or, not his front door; it’s got the wrong sort of sound. Metallic, with a woody undertone, rather than the dull thud of flesh on plastic that would portend his landlord coming to demand the rent. And he’s warm, so warm, and he’s gotten rather used to the drafty nature of his run-down shithole of an apartment in Namimori. He’s got a three bottle hang-over, too, and he hasn’t had one of those since he reached Japan. (And he’d vowed not to drink like that near his Sky given how Juu-Tsuna had responded to seeing his father drunk.)

Something about that last thought, with the odd hesitation, and the sudden compulsion to use his Sky’s given name has him hesitating in opening his eyes. There’s something odd going on. But the knocking was growing more insistent, and he shoved those thoughts to one side, and rolled away from the lovely warm form of his Sky. He did at least have enough modesty to pull on the dressing gown slung over the unfamiliar chair between him and the door. (There’s a note in G-script in the pocket of the gown, and he hesitates long enough to scan it before opening the door.)

The butler on the other side of the door is not who he’d expected. Especially as the man proceeded to address him by his birth-name, and carrying a tray with three breakfasts and a bottle of prosecco on it. “With the crew’s compliments, young master.” It’s easy to pull on the mantle of being his father’s heir at least long enough to allow the man through the door; the butler crossing to the balcony to set out the meal on the table out there. “Welcome aboard the Arcadia; should you require anything, my name is Saul, and I will be your butler at least until we arrive in Southampton.” The man bows, and backs back out of the suite, and he locks the door behind him.

What the everloving fuck was going on? The butler had addressed him in Italian, and called him by his birth name. He flops down into one of the chairs, and contemplates what’s going on, and the note. Juu-Tsuna had obviously decided that he was _absolutely_ serious about not being the Vongola Tenth, and asked his Mist to do something about it. Mukuro had taken full advantage of that permission, and here they were on a _very_ luxurious cruise boat.

Jesus, Joseph and Mary, what had he been thinking allowing that crazy ass Mist to fuck with his head? Hopefully Juu-Tsuna, and fuck, that compulsion was going to wind him up. His Sky deserved all the honours he could heap on him! 

He tried the thought again. Hopefully _Tsuna_ knew more and would explain when he woke up. He could _wake_ him up and ask, but he looked across at the bed, and Tsuna was curled up with Takeshi spooning him and that was _far_ too cute, but he was far too awake and self-conscious to crawl back into bed with the other two. There was a tablet on the desk in the cabin, and he crossed over and picked it up.

The screen-saver was a live-tracker of the cruise boat, and they were part way between Nagasaki and Hong Kong. He swiped through the next few screens, and whistled softly at the sum in their boat account, and blinked at the names they were all registered aboard with; Mukuro had obviously been feeling mischievous. (And their declared ages; no wonder they’d had prosecco included with their breakfast; he’d have to make sure that the other two were carefully with the alcohol until they’d built up a tolerance.)

It’s all rather surreal, and he’ll panic later, when he knows more. He can feel the Misty bastard’s influence on his mind - remembers Mukuro telling him that the compulsion would wear off when he no longer needed it. (He could have told Mukuro that it wasn’t necessary, but he would have been lying to himself. The Flame Mafia was the only life he’d ever known, and for His Juu - his Tsuna not to want to sit on it’s highest throne was something that was going to take time to get accustomed to.) 

Fuck. He needs a cigarette. And he'd bet that the shitty Mist hadn’t packed any for him.


End file.
